Diaries of a Hellcat
by Faded Classic
Summary: Cat is a hybrid at the Institute, left behind with her 'family' when the other mutants were broken out by the Flock. This is the story of her journey from captivity to freedom. / Now on air: Tan /
1. CAT: 062105

**AN: Don't own, don't sue. Period.**

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CHAPTER 1: CAT

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_They say, they don't trust,  
You, me, we, us,  
So we'll fall if we must,  
Cause it's you, me,  
And it's all about,  
It's all about..._

All About Us, TATU

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**June 21, 2005**

Wouldn't have been great if the oh so _amazing_ Maximum Ride and her flock broke into the Institute and set all the poor caged mutants free?

Too bad she didn't.

Sadly, there were a few of us that were taken to the heart of the building and stowed there.

There, they lay forgotten, even by those they loved.

How do I know this? Simple. I'm one of them. One of the Left Behind, the Forgotten.

My name is Cat, and this is my story

~*KA-POW*~

You know, I should probably rephrase my opening statement. I sound bitter. But whatever.

Alright, before I start, there's a few things you should know about us.

First off, we aren't a flock. Most of us don't even have _wings_. I'm not one of the lucky ones who did get them.

Second, we were never ever meant to meet. Not like Maximum and her All-American flock, who had been carefully selected and bred in California, with their stunning good looks and flawless actions. Hey, the US base, the US looks. God, there's like, four blondes in the whole group. Counting Maximum, who has brownish blonde hair, but whatever. It's close enough. You got Angelic Doll, Adorable Devil, Brown Beauty, Pretty Boy, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome, and Maximum Supermodel to boot. How do I know this? Simple. We saw them. And they were good, but more than that, they were _hot_. Even the girls. Oh, I went there. So sue me if I called another girl gorgeous.

No, dear readers, we are a rag-tag group of mismatched failures. Hell, sometimes we can't even keep track of our members. We're just that uncoordinated.

Third, we're slated for termination.

I know, I know, so totally cliché. The whole, 'oh no, pity me, for my life is about to be snuffed out.' Yeah. I've always hated sob stories – sadly, right now I'm living one.

But I digress.

Our youngest member is Ember. She's a nine-year-old gun-totin' pyromaniac with attitude problems. Well, minus the gun-toting. But she's a damn good shot if I've ever seen one. Lucky bitch got hawk DNA, giving her wicked sharp eyesight and a pair of flippin' huge wings. Oh yes, I do swear. Have been for a few years. Nasty habit I picked up from one of the senior members, Lana. Bitch can swear in more languages than all of us put together. And she's only nineteen.

Oh yes, I said that. I just dethroned Maximum Ride as Girl Wonder, First Experiment Extraordinaire. Maximum, as I'm sure you've heard, is the first hybrid.

You know what I say to that? Bullshit.

Just 'cause she's the oldest to escape doesn't mean that she's the oldest made. Actually, Ax was the oldest that I know of. He would've been twenty-three today, 'cept for the fact he was caught trying to escape, and was promptly gunned down. Yes, I know. Tears for the fallen comrade and all that shit.

But I'm getting sidetracked.

Em's from Ireland (came here at seven), and isn't exactly what you'd call pretty. She's pretty normal. The only thing different is her hair, which is the most vivid shade of red I've ever seen. But seriously. It, like, glows like fire. Like, really really really bright red. I shit you not.

The next is Tan. An abbreviation for katana, like the sword. He's got a real thing for pointy edges. He picked his name when he fell in love with the picture of a real katana. The picture came from a weapon magazine the metalheads left lying around on the floor. He's about eleven, I think. We think he's got some kind of snakey DNA because the kid is the most flexible and skinny mutant I've ever known. And that's saying something. Tan's from the Japan base, somewhere beneath Tokyo. Got transferred here at age eight. Don't ask me why. He still won't talk about it. I think the only one who really knows is Em, 'cause they're like best buddies or something. He's a cute kid, a little bit on the girly side, with almond-shaped and colored eyes and the softest and fluffiest black hair you could ever imagine. He's a beautiful kid, but hey, I'm not complaining.

Then there's me. Unlike the rest, I'm a native, but I come from down 'round Florida. Or Georgia. It was somewhere in the South. Anyways, I've got some kind of panther or lion or tiger DNA in me. Take your pick.

Unlike the others of my group, I _really_ love hand to hand combat. And not the prissy finicky martial arts they teach to the norms now. I like street fighting, fast, furious, and dirty. Let your guard halfway down, I'll kick you in the balls. Lower it all the way, and sorry buddy, you just bought a one-way ticket to the undertaker's. I fight with everything I've got. Feet, hands, claws, teeth, _anything_. It's why I'm named Cat. It's short for Hellcat, to be precise, but I've learned that norms, hell, even mutants, look at you funny when you introduce yourself as Hellcat, no matter how accurate it may be. Yeah.

After me, it's Murray. The girl's from all the way down under. You know, Australia. She's part otter, too. Well, a vicious and blood thirsty otter, but then, we all are. Vicious and bloodthirsty, I mean. It's the whole reason why we're here. She's the worst out of all of us, though. She's got a quick temper and a mean sadistic streak a mile wide. And she's a totally amazing swimmer, which is always a plus. She's got blue eyes and long blonde hair, her pride and joy, and won't dye or cut it, despite the fact that we try to make her realize that _otters don't have blonde hair_. She's got her moments where she can be the devil incarnate or one of the ditziest girls you've ever seen, but we love her anyways. She's a year older than me, fourteen.

Then, our self-designated leader is Locke. Play on the word loco, meaning crazy in Spanish (see? I'm not _totally_ uneducated). And he's crazy. In a good way, a good way. He's got fox DNA, no doubt about it. He's the oldest at sixteen, and he's had the hardest time out of all of us. He's tough as nails and as blunt as a fucking nail head, but he gets the job done. He's the sneakiest, most manipulative, and generally the most experienced with all things. So, like I said, the fox fits him the best. And he's got the furry reddish-brown hair to prove it. And it's furry. Did I mention furry? I did. Good. Because it is important to stress that Locke is _furry_. Not fluffy (that's Tan), not sleek (that's Murray), not puffy (that's Ember), not even fuzzy (that's me). He. Is. FURRY.

Yeah.

All of us are special. Not because of who we are, what we've done (though that's part of it), which animal we were mixed with, what powers we have, or anything like that. We're special because of our track record. It's also why we're slated for termination first when they finish the serum. Which is something I don't get. I mean, really, they could just, you know, shoot us. Or chop off our heads! Hell, there's a bunch of different ways to die in under ten seconds. But yeah. We're kinda the rebels. The ones that are just unable to be controlled. We all have a record for destroying the most property ever in almost a century. And we're goddamn proud of it.

So now we're in the bowels of the seventh level of hell, about to see if there's an eighth. Consequently, we were not freed with the rest. I feel for them. I really do. Poor little midgets, couldn't even speak. Only Aria could, but she's only one. But that's past now.

Their calling for us now. Hey, whoever reads this, if you find my corpse, tell everyone I died a hero, right?

You will?

No?

Ah well, too much to hope for. Murray always said I was a drama queen. Just 'cause _she's_ got the emotional quagmire of a tablespoon, doesn't mean she has to take it out on us (*coughhackMEraspchoke*).

God.

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Sooooooo, whaddaya think? Didn't mean to come off as a bashing fic, but that's just the other experiments opinion on the Flock. They range from hero-worship, to eternal gratitude, to indifference, to downright loathing. This is just one of the viewpoints.

**Errrm, well, this won't be written like a traditional fic. I'm trying to put it in First Person POV, kinda like diary entries. There'll be some from Ember, Tan, Cat, Murray, and Locke. Some of the terminology will differ from the book (whitecoat = metalhead; human/non-mutants = norms), but mostly similar.**

**Please tell me what you thought of this style of writing. It's the first time I actually tried it.**

**You see? I did put Aria in here. Now, she's the girl who the flock set free, the only one that could talk. Yeppers, that's her.**

**Review, my pretties! *does cackling laugh like the Wicked Witch of the West***

**~Becca**


	2. CAT: 091905

**AN: Seriously. Don't own, don't sue.**

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CHAPTER 2: CAT

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_Flying high, on the wings of eternity  
See their shine through the eyes of the world  
Flying high, away from reality  
See their shine through the eyes of the world..._

_Flying High, Freedom Call_

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**September 19, 2005**

God, a lot of time has passed since I last wrote, ne? Before you decide to come at me with pitchforks, I swear, I can explain.

And it's a happy explanation too.

I'm serious!

Well, first off, it's cause I couldn't find time away from the prying eyes of the watchers, as they've been keeping a closer eye on us, but, let's ignore that for a while.

Alright, here it comes, ladies and gents, norms and… well… not-norms… hold on to your seats…

WE ESCAPED!!!!! WOOHOO!!!!!!!!

Seriously, though, we did! It took a long time, but we actually did!

I'm currently sitting on a tree trunk, breathing in the fresh air, on watch. Yeah, that part's not so fun, but you know, you can't have everything. I wouldn't mind some more fish, though. Mmmmmm, fish. It's a common food, since all of us like it. Even Murray, little Miss Priss, Her (Merciful – especially when she's in a bad mood) Highness, That Bitchy Old Blonde (my personal favorite nickname for her; I think it fits), Pickiness Incarnate, likes it. And let me tell you, that's something.

Soooooo, anyways, I'm getting off track. Here's the recap (even though the whole story will take two entries, with the more action-y, escape-y part taking place in the second part…):

~*KA-POW*~

So, it all started when I was bored.

And I mean really bored. Like, really really bored. You know, when it feels like your brain is going to leak out of your skull like melted ice cream just so it'll have something to do? Yeah, that's what it felt like. Hell, I was ready to order those metalheads to test something out on me just so I didn't die of sheer boredom. Yes, I was that desperate. I know, pathetic, right?

Well, you know what they say. Be careful what you wish for, or you might end up regretting it.

Boy, did I ever.

I mean, seriously. So, I finally managed to go to sleep, and I was having this fucking AWESOME dream involving an oversize tub of ice cream, a giant spoon, and one very happy Cat (no pun intended). And oh my god, there was cherries and chocolate sauce mixed with strawberries and caramel, and oh holy fuck the whipped cream...

Needless to say, I was in Hellcat Heaven.

Which was why I was muy pissed when those ugly hunks of flesh they're passing off as Daggerteeth nowadays woke me up. Seriously, haven't they ever heard of tact?

Gentleness?

Quiet?

Anything like that?

Hmm? Can anyone answer that question? Oh, me! Pick me!

The answer is abso-fuckin'-lutely not.

You know what those bastards did? Huh? Huh? No? Well, let me tell you, had I been Murray, those damn metalheads would be quite a few Daggerteeth shorter. But, since I wasn't, the Daggerteeth were just a few eardrums shorter.

Oh well, not like it mattered. They could always regenerate them. Oops, I forgot. They can't!

Let me tell you, that made my victory all the sweeter. Knowing they'd be forever just a few decibels short of deafness was just the fucking icing on the cake.

And damn, did it feel good!

Well, it did until they decided that losing their eardrums paled in comparison to losing their heads as they undoubtedly would if they didn't bring me (see? I told you I would end up regretting my wish) to the labs for some, and I quote, 'super important secret meeting thing.'

Yeah, soooooo not gonna be anything more than lackeys. Or simply hunks of meat that are useful when convenient.

So yeah. They just, like wrenched me out of my cage, which was way to small, let me tell you. Hmph. Rude much?

Basically, it happened like this: They pissed me off. I fought. They fought back. I lost. Get the picture?

Well anyways, I got thrust into this fucking cage that was waaay too small, like so much smaller than my old one. I mean, really? I could barely cramp myself into it, and I'm actually pretty skinny and flexible. So yeah. It sucked. Anyways, I looked around.

My flock/pack/pride/clan/family/group/whatever-the-fuck-we-are was staring back at me. Oh hell no, I remember thinking. Now they've done it. Because, you know, I'm get super-pissed when people hurt the other four. I've been told I'm very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very possessive and territorial, in animal terms. Nobody hurts my family and gets away with virgin ears. And that's if I don't have the power or ability to rip them from limb to limb. So when I saw ice grey-blue eyes, a flexibly contorted body, long blonde hair, and dark tan skin, I was overly pissed. So, I did what I always do to release steam when I'm really mad…

I swore up a storm.

"Those -censored- -censored-! What the -censored- -censored-burnt -censored- did they -censored- do! Why in the -censored- seven -censored- are we even -censored- here! -censored-, somebody tell me what the -censored- are we -censored- doing here before I find a way to rip those -censored- -censored- sons of -censored- -censored- little -censored- -censored- apart!" I ranted, baring slightly-longer-than-average fangs that were growing longer and longer. The angrier I got, the larger they grew, until they were the same size as a saber tooth tiger's. My near invisible whiskers that lay flat on my cheeks stiffened and thickened, popping out so that they were clearly visible against the burnt bronze of my cheeks.

"Cat, calm down… you're starting to freak out Ember…"

That was Tan. He, as always, was trying to protect his younger but nonetheless closest friend.

His words did have some calming effect, though. I felt my pupils fluctuating, narrowing into slits then receding back to their circular human shape. My fangs receded somewhat, though they were still a little larger than normal, and my whiskers thinned, making them much less visible than before. They didn't, however, disappear completely. I thought I had quite commendable self-control, taming the anger so quickly, but apparently no one was impressed.

Hmph. They're just jealous.

Of my super-awesome pouting and ignoring skills, which, by the way, totally beat Murray's. And she's the one who can seduce mass quantities of males by just flashing a smile and tugging her top a bit.

So yeah. I'm quite proud of my pouting skills. As I said before, they're just jealous.

And blind.

And jealous.

And blind.

Well, I should hurry up writing, because I'm pretty sure that once this gets published or something like that, you all don't want to be just bored by my ramblings on life, sooooo…

Yeah.

But like I was saying, we were all pissed at being locked up. It took a good two weeks of begging it out of the kinder, more maternal metalheads and watchers (Tan and Em), sneaking around and listening to current gossip then deciphering it (me, obviously), seducing the young, naïve interns into spilling all the information (Murray – that should be a given. Damn long-lashed, blue-eyed blonde and her giant chest and incredible seduction skills. And no, I am not jealous), and provoking the Daggerteeth and older metalheads into it up as well as picking the locks on the 'Classified' cabinets (Locke) to find out why. And we were annoyed and still kinda pissed after we found out.

Turns out the AAA (All-American Avians) had broken into this compound and freed all of the mutants on the top level. Now, we already knew this, but it was how they did it that got us upset. There is a hole there that leads to the alleyway, under a sign? Really? And they couldn't have been considerate enough to maybe, oh, I dunno, actually rescue the kids first, find information via the Computer-Whisperer later? So they could find out information about the families the Mind Invader had already told them about? Seriously? The things we went through… we could have gotten out with the rest if they had broken them out just a smidge earlie –

Damn. Locke's giving me The Look – you know, the get-your-ass-into-a-comfortable-spot-and-go-to-fucking-sleep-NOW look. Are you kidding me? My watch is over already? I was getting to the good part! Seriously, pouting and whining here. Not out loud, of course, as Locke would slit my throat, but mentally, you know?

But anyways, back to topic. If they had brken them out just a smidge earlier… we would have all been home free.

Saviors of the world, my ass.

If they're – or, more specifically she's (don't give me that look, you know what I'm talking about) – our only hope, then this world is…

Utterly. Fucked.

(and roasted in deep shit, for that matter)

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**AN: Well, here's the second chapter. Sorry it took so long to get out, and being such a disappointment too. It's just a filler. The next one might not be out in a while, so... sorry.**

**Like I said before, this wasn't supposed to come out as Flock-bashing. Cat just has too much fun pointing out others failing, and tends to see the worst in people rather than sympathize with their motives. She doesn't exactly _care_ about her origins, either, so she tends to make fun of those who do. She sees it that no matter what the circumstance, her parents abandoned her, and if they had any more common sense then they would have worked to find her harder. Nor does she understand the need others have to uncover their history. She's a bitch, yes, and a rather unsympathetic one at that.**

**Translation: Daggerteeth – Erasers. Also known as those wolf-man things that always seemed to chase Max wherever she goes.**

**Well, hopefully the next chapter will be better, and this sates your curiosity just a little while longer. Standard review policy applies. And even if you can't be bothered to leave a review, favorites and alerts are also loved. Cheers!**

**~Hallow**


	3. TAN: 092005

**AN: Shouldn't have to repeat myself by now. I don't own.**

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CHAPTER 3: TAN

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Maybe, someday  
_We'll live our lives out loud  
__We'll be better off somehow  
____Someday..._

_Someday, Rob Thomas_

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September 20, 2005

Hi. I don't know if you've noticed, but it's not Cat this time. It's someone else.

Namely, me, Tan.

Let's get one thing straight: I didn't steal this journal, okay? I just… borrowed it. I did, really. I have every intention of giving this back to Cat when I'm done, seeing as this is her diary and not mine – not that I would _ever_ have a diary, you know – but she's asleep right now and I need something to do. It's my turn for watch, and Locke just woke me up. I do better in the dead of the night, because it's just too _hot_ during the day. Downside is, though, nobody else shares my sentiments and are therefore asleep. Which, in turns, makes me really bored. Ever since I was small, I've always hated staying still, and it was just _torture_ to spend day after day in those cages.

Still, I was awake, I was alone, and I was bored out of my mind when I saw the dark red cover of this little thing peeking out from Cat's little hoard of belongings. She was curled up all around those scraps and rags like she was afraid if she didn't guard them closely, even in her sleep, someone would steal them for good – she's paranoid like that. Yeah, she hides it well, but a few others actually know what she's trying to do by that. Her Watchers, mainly. Me? I just know that from the small scrap of her file I was able to overhear her Watchers talking about.

Watchers… we all have them. They're not Metalheads, or Daggerteeth. They're something entirely different. More like… analysts, I guess you could say, but not quite, since they use their heart a lot more often than their heads. From what I've overheard and weaseled out of people, they're kind of like miniature Fates, from the Greek myths. They watch over us, and decide what we eat, when we sleep, what kind of tests we take… and they're a lot more powerful than the Metalheads. They're responsible for our survival, for our well-being. Well, as much of our well-being with us still as test subjects, that is. Every experiment has one; only some are more active than others. Many just ignore their charges until things are desperate – some coddle their paired as much as possible. Batchelder comes to mind for the latter. Everyone knows that at least _one_ of those AAA (Cat's term for them – it's actually kind of catchy) should have died long ago, but all of them are still alive, so _someone_ must have been a _little_ more attached to them than he should have been.

My Watcher is really nothing like that. I've met her on occasion – she's fairly nice, as far as Metalhead associates go. Still, you can see that she's kind of detached from us – me and the other specimens under her watch. It's like she really wants nothing to do with us. And it's not because she's some snobby bitch – on contrary, she's a semi-active humanitarian. She's really just a woman in far over her head. From what I've observed of her, this place, it sickens her, and she just wants to forget all about it. I don't blame her, because I'd do the same thing in her place.

Either way, I saw her hiding this little black-and-red recorder under her arm. It had shifted position as she had continued to sleep, so it was fairly easy to slip it out from under her arm. When I did so, I got a good look at her face.

Cat's face is always intriguing. It's in constant masks – I have no doubt that this journal has just recorded part of her personality. Most likely her childish one, because it's the most believable, despite being so naïve-ish and more idealistic than it should be possible what with growing up in a lab with an ignorant and moronic Watcher who has no idea what's going on right under her nose. Even when she's asleep, it's rare to see her face so unguarded as it was now. It was a minute change, just a small pucker between her eyebrows, her lips slightly turned down, but it was more of an honest expression than the cheesy smile or snarling anger I've seen on her face for weeks.

Looking out, I've got to say this night sky is the most beautiful yet. I know that Ember would laugh at me for thinking that, if I ever said it out loud, and would probably tell me that "you say that_ every night_, Tan!" but it's true every night, for me. She wouldn't get it, because she's pretty and bright and would live happily if the world was forever daytime. She's a day-girl, really, and enjoys the hot, sweltering sun more than I could ever imagine me doing. She's like fire, like her hair is – she's burning and bright and shining, but like candles she glows strongest before going out forever in a blaze of glory. Ember is _insane_, and is really nothing more than a weapon of war in a little girl's body that's going to die before she hits fifteen. Just like her favorite element, she is powerful and destructive, with no discrimination for who or what she obliterates or value for humanity. I understand why she thinks like that; she's been betrayed by humanity too many times to feel any differently.

I'm the only one who knows this side of her – this terrifying and brutal side. I know what she's really like, because I've seen her in action. I've seen her casually slaughter whoever and whatever gets in her way of what she wants. Like when we were escaping, I was the only one who saw her blow up row after row after row of robotic dolls in such a painful way not even the worst scum of the earth deserved with nothing more than a single barrel pistol and some well-placed shots. Cat was taking out some squadrons of Daggerteeth, while Locke and Murray were on the other side of the building, Murray hacking and stealing all the information on the main computers and Locke taking out anyone who got too close to her. They sent me with Ember, to 'protect' her, keeping the humanoid robots away as she secured our escape route.

It was mostly the other way around, though, with me leaving a trail for the others as I found a way out, and Ember wiping out the squads of Daggerteeth who got near us.

I know that Cat has probably introduced us all, but I don't care, because she doesn't know half of what we really are. As good as that mask of hers is, she can't see through ours. Or maybe she just can't bring herself to see through them, and wants to believe we really are as we appear. She might be paranoid and a frequent victim of a personality crisis, but she desperately wants to believe in the world, no matter what she says. Underneath her dirty fighting and even dirtier mouth, she's most likely the most human of us all. She has that quiet _goodness_, the kind that will keep her relatively innocent no matter what she goes through.

I'm almost jealous of her. Almost.

Back to the topic at hand. It's really lonely, taking night watch, you know. It's quiet, and even though that's normally a good thing, I can't stand it right now. There're no crickets chirping, no owls hooting… nothing but the quiet rustling of leaves on a tree and a whole lot of unnatural silence. Like this place is dead, abandoned. A ghost forest. Huh. Strange – I didn't think these kinds of things existed. Ghost towns, maybe, but not ghost forests. I wondered what scared them all off?

I overheard what Cat was recording earlier – she's not the most quiet kid around, you know. I figured I'd finish up for her, not that I'd know what was going on, on her side of the escape, that is. But she ended up falling asleep before she managed to get past the part where she found us at, and got royally pissed, so I guess I'll pick up from there.

So after she downplayed all our roles in spying – even hers, because Cat's nothing if not fair; biased, maybe, but fair nonetheless – we ended up coming up with a plan to break out. Well, '_we_' is an overstatement. It was mostly Murray and Locke. Murray came up with most of it, though, because even though she's vain and somewhat shallow, she's a genius when she wants to be. Locke pitched in every few minutes, complimenting her plans – and didn't _that_ make her ego swell like a balloon on rapid pump. See, Murray's got this _real_ obvious crush on Locke, who is pretending to be oblivious. Because, let's face it, this isn't exactly the most romantic setting, and the Metalheads don't need any more ammunition on us than they have already. Plus, I think that he's not as totally infatuated with her as she is he, what with him being three years older than her, though he does care for her more than any of us, what with him always shielding her from the worst and covering for her in his gruff, impersonal way. It's sweet, in a twisted and oddly touching way, even though it's the kind of love story only _Ember_ could find remotely normal.

Either way, with Murray's cheeks on permanent fire-hydrant red, she managed to string together a game plan the likes of which an experienced strategist would have a difficulty countering. Guess I'll have to cut back on the dumb blonde jokes now. She could just as easily feed me to the wolves – literally.

Whatever the case, she created the escape routes with our jobs and all factored into it. It was… well, I wouldn't say foolproof, because only idiots believe that their plans are 'foolproof,' because no matter how brilliant a move is, there's a little guy called Murphy who likes to mess with our lives. You all know who I'm talking about. 'Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong'? That's the one. But the plan was still pretty good. I'm not sure that the Metalheads could have ever countered it had they not overheard us talking about it via the collars.

Collars. I hate those things. We've still got them on us right now, and it's really pissing me off. I mean, not only can they sometimes overhear what we're saying, it also has tracking devices, shock receivers, all those kinds of nasty appliances. And what's worse, they _chafe_. Like leaving welts and slices chafing. It's ridiculous. We aren't some misbehaving pound animals – all right, so we kind of are. But still, we're _people_. The least they could have done was use something unnoticeable. Then, I guess, we wouldn't have known it was there and went on living unaware that they could read our every move as we lived in a false sense of freedom. Still, a metal strip around your neck is rather demeaning. No, it's… what's the word? Oh yeah, dehumanizing. I wonder if they thought that by treating us like animals they could reduce us to the mentalities of ones. If they succeeded, it might have made their jobs easier, but it might have made them harder.

You know, it's kind of ironic that so many people are freaking out about animal rights when there are actual _people_ out there who need their help. You don't see people starting protests about corrupt governments and poverty, do you? No. It's always 'save the environment' and 'stop global warming' and 'protect the near-extinct animals' even though they're descended from the ones who _hunted_ the animals into near-annihilation. It's really annoying.

And I'm off-topic again. I bet you just wish I'd hurry this up, don't you? That I'd give it to you straight. I will, I will… it's just that there are so many other things I need to tell you all about, that it's impossible for me to go in a straight line. It's like… a winding road, you know? You have to know this stuff before I can tell you about everything else, because if I don't, you all will be confused. But I'll try to do my best for you to hear everything.

Where was I? Oh yeah, the collars. Well, now that you know how despicable those things are, you understand our anger at being overheard, don't you? It was such a cheap move, sneaking around and overhearing everything we found out, and messing it up for us. But you know what they say. All's fair in love and war. And seeing as we weren't in love with them – that was Jace, the one who had that ill-fated, dirty little affair with one of the Metalheads (and didn't _that_ turn out _wonderfully_) and ended up getting himself killed and the other fired (and probably his throat slit, too) – therefore we were at war.

And honestly? Being at war with the Institute felt like Christmas come early. I'm not going to lie; it was great to strike back at those bastards, getting even for all the crap they pulled with us. It felt amazing, knowing that for each dead Metalhead and Daggertooth, one of our buddies, siblings, or even just fellow experiments were being avenged. One for Ax, who I met only briefly as he was making a break for it but left an impression on me nonetheless. One for Kachi, the turn-coat prototype for the newest generation of Daggerteeth and the closest thing I had to a mother. One for Gen, the craziest, cheesiest, most heroic sociopath I'd ever known. One for Mick, my fellow cage-sharer when I was less than four years old. One for Eisha, my first Watcher who did her best to get me out before I was destroyed for good. One for Jace, the reckless idiot, because I owed it to Drop and Lee and Aria to get revenge because they couldn't. One for Shy, my little sister, a mute that was deemed worthless before they proceeded with the 'termination'.

It was the chance everyone had been waiting for, the chance to avenge anyone they'd ever cared about and had taken away. Such a pity that we were the only ones left to carry it out. Thanks for that, Maximum, thanks a lot for that. Can you hear the sarcasm yet?

You all are probably wondering why I'm bringing other people – yes, _people_ – up, when I've got a group and 'should be loyal to them and only them because they are my first family,' or something like that. The truth? These people – they are nothing to me. I don't care for them outside of the minimum I have to. We were flung together out of chance and necessity, and I won't let it get any farther than that. Don't get me wrong, I like them fine – you just aren't going to see me giving a damn about what happens to them more than what I must. They need to be healthy and strong enough to get out and stay out of that place. If we ganged together, we had more of a chance of breaking out with each other than without each other. A win-win situation, and we all get what we want.

I already have a family. Their names are Tide, Ace, and Kesti. They knew who I was, what I was, and I had no secrets to keep from them nor they me. They're out there, somewhere – I know it. I can _feel_ it. They're my best friends, my family – Tide, the oldest, is a quiet guy, but rash and impulsive. Ace, who is the same age as me, is a complete loose cannon with an aptitude for poisons. Kesti, the youngest, reminds me of Ember, but not as insane. Well, maybe I should say that Ember reminds me of Kesti, not the other way around, because I knew and loved _Kesti_, not Ember, first. Not that I love Ember. Because I don't. I don't care for her at all.

These people I'm with… they'll never be that close. Why? Because I have a secret, one the formers know and the latters don't. You want to know what it is? It's something I've never told anyone else. See, I'm not a snake hybrid, or have mystical water powers, like everyone seems to think I am. I'm not even a hybrid. I am 100% human, with the exception of one little thing.

My blood is entirely made up of liquid ice.

Not a single person in this… _group_ I'm traveling with knows about that little fun fact. Not Locke, not Murray, not Cat. Not even Ember. Nobody. Because honestly? I'm absolutely terrified of what they would think of me if they knew. Yes, me, Tan. The rock. The stoic one. The one that is unaffected by all the insanity around him. The only one who doesn't feel a little sick at seeing Ember disembowel a Daggertooth, is _scared_. I admit it. Now shut up and keep it to yourself.

The overhearing of our plans. Right. I should get back to that.

So they overheard our plans. It was just too bad they did, really, because if they hadn't they wouldn't have lost so many skilled – yes, I admit it – Daggerteeth to Ember and Cat. They should have known that if we were serious to get out, then we would get out. Nothing they did could have a chance at stopping us. That's a downside, you know, to creating tools stronger than you. They're useful, but should they decide to strike back against you… well, there's not much you can do. But, idiots that they were, they separated us.

Yeah. Separated us. As if that could stop us. It only really made us more determined to get out, you know? Taking us away from the ones we love, the only ones we have in this cold and cruel world, ripping us apart on the inside… and oh god, now I sound like Murray, always waxing poetic about romance in her haughty little bitchy way. God, someone gag me now. You can totally see this 'sticking together' thing is driving us – well, me, at least – completely crazy, what with the cabin fever and all. I swear to god, I'm even starting to pick up on some of their mannerisms. Just last night, I caught myself waving my hands around when I was explaining something to Ember, who gave me a funny look when I nearly whacked her in the head and asked me if I was Locke on crack. I answered no, and then realized what exactly my hands were doing.

See? I'm doing it again. You have no idea how sick I am of my body acting without any approval from my head. It's like there are mini-brains all over my body that don't bother to check in with my real one, though that would be severely disturbing and incredibly uncool. You know, spazzing out whenever your muscles feel like it. It's not fun.

So, cabin fever aside, it was actually… lonely, without them. I'll admit it – I missed hearing Cat and Murray get into scathing rows about things and opinions, especially when it came to world-views. They were always very loud, very painful, and ended up with three of us – me, Locke, and Ember – with our hands over our ears, Murray with her blonde hair flying everywhere, and Cat with her fangs – for lack of a better term – elongated, pupils slitted, and whiskers popping out of her cheeks, bristling. The two talkers of our little group always did provide excellent entertainment, though I do think that really was one of the only things they were good at. They'd probably kill me for that, though.

I ended up just sitting there, and waiting. There weren't so many tests going on, simply because all the Metalheads were simply to busy packing up everything. Daggerteeth were being shipped to different locations, something we were all grateful for. Even the Watchers had no time to even pay the slightest bit of attention to us, really. So it was just me in my little cage, twisted into some pretzel position as I watched all the bustle around me, sitting quietly. After the third day of that, actually, I was woken up by Locke, who used, well, _something_ to pry the bars open. I suppose I was lucky that I was skinny and twisty enough to fit through the bars without hitting them, because when I joined the rest, I noticed that Cat had some pretty nasty scratches around her abdomen, really, and they were bleeding too. Which wasn't a good thing, because Daggerteeth can smell blood. Oh, and gut wounds are generally fatal, and if not, ridiculously painful. But mostly because Daggerteeth could smell blood, really.

We were in the heart of the building, where we met, unfortunately. That meant that not only did we have to avoid all cameras on _every single floor_, we also had to work our ways over all boxes, metal, and random shards of broken scalpels, which really hurt to step on (and yes, I am speaking out of experience), and then split up when we hit the vents. You know how movies like to make escapes huge and grand and so godsdamn _dramatic_? Yeah, it was nothing like that. It was painful, it was uncomfortable, and it was filthy. Crawling through vents is never fun. Especially when the girl in front of you likes to shove her dirty feet in your face. It's so freaking _gross_.

Shit. Ember's stirring, and either she or Murray is going to be waking up soon, and I have no doubt they'll tell Cat what I was doing with her precious recorder, and make it sound much worse than it really is. And then Cat will dismember me before she moves onto my internal organs, and _I'll never_ –

_Goddammit_. They've infected my mind, I swear it.

Lord, I need to get out of here. Staying in close quarters with a paranoid schizo, a psychopath, a love-struck fangirl, and a emotionless rock for an excuse of a leader is starting to take a toll on my sanity.

What's left of it, at least.

**

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**

AN: Oh my god, you guys, I'm so, so sorry for the long wait! Gah, I'm such an awful person... stupid busy summers... anyway, I know I've been hit with the drabble-bug, and I cut this off abruptly, but I'll have it in soon, I swear. Once again, thank you all for your patience.

Anyways, you might have noticed discrepencies in the descriptions of the OCs personalities. This is because it is first-person, and they all see each other differently in their own eyes, and they are all convinced their interpretation is correct. The general characterization is the same, though. So hopefully you won't be too confused.

However, onto the terms. Watchers are, essentially, the social workers to the mutants. Each Watcher will have 3 or more mutants to 'watch' over, and make sure they are in decent health and mental state. Because I refuse to believe that Itex does not care the slightest bit about what happens to their test subjects.

Anyways, I know what's going on with Tan's 'mutation' is pretty much virtually impossible and unbelievable, but hey, this is Maximum Ride, where little girls can transform into actual birds, _avian-human_ hybrids grow _gills_, and talking _dogs_ without a single bit of bird DNA, grow _wings_. I highly doubt Tan's water-for-blood is more unbelievable than that. Seriously. I'm sorry, but it's true.

I will be replacing some of the previous chapters, though it will just be minor changes, like ages and the occasional grammer or spelling error. And thus ends this ridiculously long author's note. *iz a fail*

~Hallow


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